Spiritual, Purity, unconscious eruptions, Unburdened soul, thoughts, random record, collective connections

 

jueng

jm


Random Thoughts And Eruptions Of The Unconscious


A Work Of Spiritual Purity






1/07/07


Things are barely visible; been that way for a million years as long and as far back as I can remember; too hard to figure it out. I'm glad to have found out which is which and where is where.


Mine is a hollow mind complete with deep resonance. I am the filter for something that needs to have an outlet. Mine is the pathway for a negligible existence.


Fires burn far beneath. I am lost drifting with a current, a charge that emanates from the deepest parts of the universal energy. I am filled with the energy of the universe, creative healing. I am tired, adjusting to something that I am not used to. For the first time in my life I am facing my own mortality. I felt fine a few weeks ago, a little tired, but all right. Well not really right, but I felt like things were getting better. Honestly, things were not getting much better.


I work at a golf course, inside most of the time. The building is old and full of mold. My work week averages eighty hours by the time the summer is over I have been exposed to a great deal of mold and other bacteria. Every January or end of December I get sick. This year is no exception. I just started taking antibiotics for my yearly general infection that ends up as respiratory and sinus. This year is a real doozy;I felt like shit for a long time and finally got to the point where I could go to the doctor and get my yearly dose of antibiotics; just started taking them on Sunday.


I had a biopsy of a mole on my back last Thursday and have a biopsy of my prostate gland scheduled for this coming Wednesday. It is amazing what one trip to a new doctor can do for you. I felt sick as hell for about two weeks just imagining everything that is going to be wrong with me as a result of all this testing.


I go mainly by intuition. My gut instinct tells me that anything abnormal with my prostate is due to this infection. I can feel changes all over my body as the antibiotic goes to work. I honestly don't think there is any cancer in my prostate. I have checked and rechecked my instincts over and over again and there is nothing I can find. I could be wrong. But I have an amazing talent for foresight and I do not foresee anything catastrophic in the immediate or near future.


I could be wrong and have been wrong before. I will know in a couple weeks.


They also scheduled a colonoscopy that I think I am going to cancel because I am running out of money and enough is enough already.


Too much time and not enough money, dying a slow death requires a lot of negativity. Throw away the Bible, the old one that is obviously it is not working anymore. We need a new Bible, a Bible that gives us access to our own conscience and our own resources in order to function as responsible human beings. The old bible puts the onus on an external source, an external being. We need a philosophy that puts the weight of the proposition on us as individuals and us alone. If we take individual responsibility, our responsibility as a group, people or species will take care of itself. We need to be individually aware of what we are doing, but still aware that there are powers and forces working all around us that we do not understand: that we can only understand if we take responsibility for our own actions, then fine tune our existence to the unseen things that we have at our disposal. We have to put our faith in each other for our faith in God to take effect. If we have no faith in ourselves, to do the right thing, or in each other, then there can be no God available to help any of us.


1/11/07


I had the prostate biopsy yesterday. Literally a pain in the ass. It felt like I had a three inch pole shoved up my ass for twenty minutes. There sure is blood in the urine afterwards. The doctor said there would be blood in my semen too. I found out this morning that he was right. I jerked off and ejaculated a gusher of blood that looked like a red Mount St. Helen's.


The ultrasound pictures of my prostate, the blood tests and urine tests all came back negative so he said I was three for three. I am just awaiting the results f the biopsy.


I sat out in the sun this afternoon for a while and watched the airplanes go over head; jet streams silent blowing hard downwind of a west wind as the the jets surged forward. The sun seemed brighter than it ever was against the blue sky. There is so much happening up there above our heads.


11/2/07


All hell fuckin’ yeah who gives a shit god damned fucking nigger bastard black assed bastard I hate them all to hell the dumb horse faced bastards. Nothing more needs to be said.


Blistering fun time old habit negative wandering reappears out there someplace I have never seen before; I bow to solitude and ask m last breath to be a kind one even though I know not when it will be. What is the asking price I can hurdle the uneven gaps and ask by ghost my spirit inside to carry me to where it is I am gong for mine is the current of understanding.


Hurry, hurry I know not what I am asking. I do not and will not take it with me for it is time to let it all go. I cannot be here all alone; that is the way things fire wild down the stretch the black tied pedigree believes that nothing is too much and too much just gives you nothing. Mine is the death knell the trivial catch all that pounds uneven along shores and cliffs and mountainsides that I have seen before but readily remember.


Stupid me I still believe that someone will read this, even funnier, that someone will have the intelligence to read this when the time comes for this to be read. I am cynic angry blood thirsty unfulfilled I cannot see what it is I am looking at though cancer has given me glimpses of things that I have taken for granted for so long, things that know I can look at in peace and calmness and see for what they really are.


BRAIN TRAUMA


It’s November 15, 2007 and another golf season has finally ended. My brain is paralyzed from the constant bombardment of seven months of the constant pounding of having to deal with the public for fourteen hours a day. It is hard to get anything started. Where do I start?


Whirling and whirling masses of wasted human flesh. I was out walking Murphy last night in the rain and as we got the corner of Perrine and State streets the usual bunch of hoodlums began to appear. It was just after supper time and they must not have anything better to do than to stand at the corner of the parking lot of Wilson’s Market and generally get in the way. Murphy and I walked down State where he did his business and we eventually ended up heading past the crowd of kids again. They move as a unit all in the same direction at the same time. It is amazing how their minds must be so attuned to each other that they don’t even realize they are a mass. All I could think of is that they comprised a moving pile of shit.


I really don’t care anymore about my grammar or syntax or being politically correct or whatever the hell else there is to care about. They really did look like a moving pile of shit and if you get close enough to them, they smell like a pile of shit too. Young kids with nothing else to do but stand out in the rain swearing and cursing at each other, smoking cigarettes, hitting the girls, and just acting like a bunch of assholes. It is a sad story, one that I am sure is played out on endless street corners around America at the same time every night.


11/15/07 7:55 PM


I’m afraid of failing. I am afraid of succeeding. So I always fuck up. I fear changing. So I never change. I fear memories. What memories do I have that cause me fear. Alone and withdrawn Full of drugs I pull the curtain for I do not know what it is I want. I just go along blindly following those things that I cannot have the things that make me follow because I know I cannot have them so I end up not having them.


Fear is loneliness of being alone of having to be whatever it is that I am . Fear of change because I may die from the change. But haven’t I already gotten past that? Fear of ghosts those things that surround me and follow me and engulf me those things that I am afraid to look at because I may have to see them. Those things that I am entitled to because of who I am I am entitled to those things but I never accept them because I am afraid of having them because then I may lose them. I may lose my life.


Blogs


January 03, 2009

Religion

Dump your Bible. Get a fresh start, dig inside your heart find out what relates you to everybody else. The old religions are dying they are useless they are lost to meaning. Buddhism is crumbling traditional religion has been shaken and broken and dying at its very core. Our mentality, our psyches are way past any biblical lessons or examples. God is God and has been God from the beginning of time, the beginning of time there is a great concept. What is time anyway, where did it start? Time is relative to our perspective, we have time because we are here because we have a perspective. But we have created our concept of existence which in turn gives us a concept of time. When we die we all still exist and we are all a part of each other. We have left a part of us here, but we have freed a part of us that becomes a part of what we are, as a consciousness, a part of us that lives on and another part that goes on into another aspect of universal, as in all universes, reality. God is not our savior. We must save ourselves. God and religion have become an excuse, an "opt out" phrase, and excuse for doing anything we want to do without the awareness of consequences for our actions. God is a man-made entity a figment of our imaginations. We created God to serve our own purposes, to give us a way out in the face of our total inadequacy as human beings. God gives us an excuse. We think God will bail us out of anything and everything we do. God is our friend. God is what we want God to be because we need God to give us comfort in the face of our imminent total demise. Get rid of your Bible, get rid of your antiquated concept of God because it plain and simple just does not work anymore. We still suffer we still die we still create wars and atrocities and perversions that are way past any vision that our minds could have perceived even a decade or two ago. And where is God to help us out? Humans still create perverse atrocities against one another and where is God? God gives them the right to do it. God gives them forgiveness. God lets them be what they want to be without any regard for their effect on anyone or anything else. Lose your old beliefs. Find a new way to live. Be an example. Try to do the right thing. Act in accordance with how your actions effect everyone and everything else in the universe. Look at what you do in the face of totality, not in the light or darkness of our ego-driven self involved illusion. Look past your self. Look past the facade. Try to see what is really out there around, inside and in front of you. Let yourself be really free, unencumbered by antique beliefs and systems. Become a part of all there is and learn to act in accordance with the universe that is at once a part of us and at the same time a part of everyone else. We then become connected to all that is, was and will ever be. This is plain and simple language because I am plain an simple just a part of the bigger picture.

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December 24

To Give Us Meaning

We have lost the ability to push the envelope, to get past our little lives and get our minds out there where we can discover and find things that are past the ordinary. In a secure little cocoon state life becomes safe at least as far as we perceive it. I had a jolt a few weeks back when I started to read articles on the internet about natural catastrophes that could happen to earth and us, as we are a part of earth, in the blink of an eye without any warning, without us even seeing it coming. Changes in magnetism or little astrophysical things could mean the end of us and all existence. Where in this scenario does security come into the equation? I would think that our entire existence is at best tenuous and hangs in the balance of forces, universal cosmic forces that are totally out of our control. If you view your existence as something that could end in a second or millisecond of time, your perspective begins to change. Ain't none of us here forever. Even the rocks don't live forever. Where do we go when we die? Does your spirit live in? Is your physical being just an illusion held together by the same invisible forces that could tear it apart in a quick jerk of nature? Trying to answer all these questions and many more lead to a different awareness or as Carlos Castaneda said, A Separate Reality. You start to change inside a little, because your very foundation gets shaken to the core. Suddenly you ain't what you were, you start to become a different person because your sense of permanency starts to erode as a result of your awareness of the universal. You start to see yourself in a different light where you are really insignificant in the greater scheme of things. Once you lose your ego and self-importance you can start to discover what it is you really are and why you are here. It deeply necessary and vital that we figure out why we are here and start to act accordingly, that we figure out our purpose. This simple act of purpose discovery leads to greater universal balance. At least it gives us a chance. We carry with us as a collective entity a tremendous storehouse of energy and power and if this energy source is out of balance, then the entire song, the universal in the sense of the entire universe including all existence and all universes, is way out of tune. This does mean something in the greater design. If each one of us starts to discover and balance our energy on an individual level, then our entire contribution to this universal effort will have meant something. I would hate to think we were here for nothing. I know the things I talk about in these blogs to be true, because they are based on intuition, instinct and feeling, three of the basic commodities that each being should try to understand, cultivate, and grow. These are basic to my being. Leave your self alone, and discover what you really are and why you are here

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December 21

Why You Die?

When you lose contact with your instincts, and let your emotions and mind take over, you lose contact with your spirit, your soul stops shining, and you die. Instinct and intuition lead to the unconscious. The unconscious keeps us alive. It is the place where all universes reside. It is the warehouse of existence. We are just an extension, a chip off the old block. You lose touch with your basic to the very core energy, and without even knowing what is happening, you begin the process of dying. You lose touch with what you are on a cosmic level. Who you are is irrelevant, it has no meaning except for the personally perverse. What you are is you instinctive package. Lose this connection, and you physically begin to die.

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Dealing With Things Nobody Ever Talks About

I don't know if it is just Christmas season or what the hell is going on but I've been dealing with my own mortality lately. Seems like intuition and instincts take over and I start to realize and feel things that are, or used to be, unpleasant to think about. I'll be 59 years old on January 30, have been through prostate cancer, a blown out knee, another knee that is pretty lousy, severe arthritis, about a dozen inadvertent blows to the head, six or more broken teeth, and a financial situation that is tenuous at best. I have a job, season work as a golf pro, the money is pretty good for seasonal work, and great artistic ability, the talent to take my unconscious innermost deepest feelings, emotions and totality and make them tangible and real in the form of images and shapes. On a strictly personal intimate level, there is a lot going on. I have had two surgeries in the last two years, cannot walk without for any length of time without the help of an un-loader knee brace, and just plain have these thoughts of doom so to speak, like this is the last time I will be going around this merry-go-round. Where does it go from here? In the face of the greater reality, of the big picture, is there really any reason to go on any further, everything I have ever done or will do will be gone and vanished in the blink of an eye. When I die what will happen to everything I have been? Will any of the things I have done, good deeds, art works, good feelings I have put out into the cosmos, survive after me? Why am I doing anything? In the face of our current foolishness and absurd style of life, our culture, our worldwide insanity, will anything ever change? Will there ever be awareness whereby us, mankind, humanity, wakes up one morning and says that maybe the way we have been living is not so great after all, and we need a big big change to get things back on the right track. We are one of the few places on earth right now, December 21, 2009, 9:25 a.m., that lives in a non-savage, formerly civilized manner. We have or used to have a way of life that included many good things, common courtesy, respect for others and ourselves, respect for decency and morality where it was not always necessary to grab your balls or blow up a building or kill a dozen people just to get aa point across. We are slowly eroding into what the rest of the world is going through. Our former way of life is slowly slipping down the toilet. Along came the blacks, Martin Luther king, and the Muslims who blow up buildings and kill because their fucking religion says that they are supposed to do it. We have Republican presidents who get in office and immediately start wars just to feed the coffers of the guys who got them into office. We have the stupid black mentality, nut grabbing ass shaking incoherent screaming animal-like behavior just for the sake of self gratification. It is all we are exposed to all we see on television and on the streets, every place we go, around every corner we turn. I do not mean this in a derogatory way, it is just the way things are. The sad thing is that if you put a mirror in front of these mavens of culture, they would not even know what they are looking at, because they have no frame of reference for their current behavior. It is all they know. We lowered standards and expectations just to give blacks more opportunities. What ever happened to excellence, to creative thinking, to innovation, to discovery? Our current answer to all these questions is perversion, insanity, well actually past what insanity used to be into an entire new realm of madness, and below mediocrity. We have lowered ourselves just accommodate the short comings of others. Instead of making everyone work a little or a lot harder, we lowered our expectations and took the easy way out. We sold out in the worst possible way, and gave away the farm. Once it's gone it is gone and there and no gittin' in back. It is the law of the land. Muslims wage these stupid holy wars without even knowing why they are doing it. I could go on and on but what is the point anyway. No one will ever read this but me, so we come full circle; and if anyone does ever stumble across my writings, it won't make any difference anyway. So I will say goodbye for today, and do what I have to do to get through the day. Why I do not know. It is a matter of survival I guess, because survival is another instinct that goes along with all my other instincts. It is the one that gets me through a day.

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December 19

It's All A ...

What the hell difference does any of it make? We take vitamins, do yoga, transcendental meditation o ma ni pad me um yeah yeah yeah, and where does it get us? It's all a crock of bullshit! time and gravity take there toll no matter how much positive thinking, yoga, acupuncture or sublimity you pump into your system. What does it do but extend this condition, this terminal humanity a few days or months at the most. We need a new awareness. What human kind, us, needs is a new system of living and being, a new frame of mind, a new frame of reference. Tibet is vanishing Buddhism is going away religion is going the route of the dinosaur. All we have left is what is inside us and what is inside us is all connected on some way shape or form. There is no individual, there is just a collective being of which we are all a part. There are universes positive and negative of which we are all a part as we are now and as we were and as we will be. It does not matter what your body does or says because your body is fleeting, a tangible moment in time, not even a moment, just a millisecond. Your awareness lives on and moves on, your attraction and tie to the collective unconscious, the reservoir of all that there is in our or any other universe is what defines your shining moment wherever or whenever you are now or will be in the future. When it is time to go it is time to go but if you are aware or even if you are not, your attraction to the prime-evil energy, the primordial fire is what carries you on into your next encounter with whatever reality you will face and become a part of. It is not up to you but it is up to you. It is a matter of matter and the "universal" laws of attraction and repulsion. You proceed as a ball of energy, merge with totality, and break off a new spirit looking for a home. You will be attracted to an orgasm that meets the energy requirements of your new structure, then you will be born again into another part of some universe or reality. Who knows how long it takes to happen? Could be in the blink of an eye or it could feel like it takes an eternity. My guess is that you ride the currents and winds of existence and again become matter-bound flung into a new adventure of solidity as you move through a new time and space once again fettered by the laws of gravity and time. Pick yourself a universe and jump in.

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December 15

Soul Cleaning Spirit Strengthening

I have just filled another 30 yard dumpster; the third one in the last six years. Look at any construction site and you will see how big a 30 cubic yard dumpster really is. This time I pulled a hug pussy willow tree stump from our garden and redefined the garden space with a new fence made from an old fence. I spent countless hours using a mattock hacking snowball bush roots and assorted other roots out of two abandoned flower beds in our vacant lot next to our house. The lot used to have a house on it but has been vacant for about 25 years or more. The years go by too fucking fast. Pulling these roots out of the ground is like pulling out a cancer; it is necessary to your survival. We also threw about 5 tones of rocks, broken cement, and stones and debris into the dumpster. I worked so hard that I stopped sweating and my heart rate actually started to slow down, the kind of physical exertion that happens during extreme effort when you participate in sporting events or train beyond what are your supposed capabilities. I worked so god-damned hard that I was past the point of exhaustion. Even with a bad knee and everything else I am dealing with. I forgot just how soothing and cleansing this kind of effort can be. When your spirit pushes your flesh past the breaking point and you survive and keep going. I have always agreed with the old axiom help by world class athletes that "if it don't hurt, it ain't worth it." Pushing myself past my breaking point is an old habit of mine. It takes courage, discipline and the willingness to take a chance. Most of the time, nearly all the time, you come out the other end feeling cleaner, better, fortified, and cleansed of both soul and spirit. I threw stuff out of the house, out of the basement, and stuff that just needed to be thrown out. Took the 35 year old rug and years of cat piss out of the living room and revealed an oak hardwood floor that my father and Uncle Tony put in the house over 50 years ago. I started the job and just kept going. Somebody has to do penance, I guess I really don't mind too much. You always feel better when the ordeal is over, like playing sports or training in that zone where you are almost unconscious, in another world, where pain is totally irrelevant and all you are aware of is your movement and the light around you. You don't hear anything but the shuffle of movement, you are totally immersed in the physical act of doing what it is you are doing, and your mind is clear, quiet, cool, and concise. Every decision you make is the correct one, everything moves in unison with everything else. It is almost like acting by instinct or total intuition. Time almost stands still, and you are alone and at the same time a part of the experience you are in with everyone else. There is no separation between you and your space, they become one and the same, and you hurtle through time a blur but a picture of fluidity and movement. You become what what you are supposed to be.

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December 13

Art Defined

You can paint landscapes, still life’s, or whatever it is you want to do, but if your content does not emanate or come from the unconscious, the collective unconscious that is creative by nature, then your content is just useless repetition of useless garbage. The great thing about content or images that come from the unconscious is that their source is immediately evident. Great works of art require learning, effort, and some suffering that at the time of creation turns into ecstasy. an encounter with this total source of energy brings you closer to your source, our source, and any work created via this passageway brings something special to the world and anyone who views it. You cannot help but be increased by any encounter with the unconscious. to make things without any real content is just recreation, but don't put what you do in the category of art, it is more like exercise. Why do you go to museums? To learn about yourself and to learn about us as mankind as witnessed by the great artists throughout history. Your unique viewpoint of a real work of art lends credibility not just to you as being who exists, but to everyone and everything else. Whatever content that pushes forth through the portal of a great work of art moves and touches you as receiver in some strange and fascinating way. To reject or deny it lessens you and lessens all of us, it decreases our value as unique beings on this lonely, God forsaken planet out in the middle of a universe among universes that matters nothing in the grand scale or universal creation, destruction, and re-creation. We just do not matter, it is that simple. Our own meaning and importance lies in the fact that we are here, as unique individuals, for some reason, against all odds. We cannot attach importance to ourselves because it comes with the territory. Discovery of the unconscious, the collective unconscious, the archetypal matter that gave birth to everything and all or us it there for all of us to experience. We have all probably had a brush with it at one time or another in our lifetimes. Whether or not you receptive to it and accepted it into your state of being was your choice. If it seemed strange and foreign and made you uncomfortable, then that is the way you should have felt. If you ran away, then you could not handle it. If you could not understand and did not even try, then you could not handle it. There is no crime, it is your own lack of power, or understanding that pushed you away. You were repelled by your own inadequacies, your gravity pushed you away form the collective storehouse of universal knowledge. Feeling uncomfortable is not a bad thing, but a feeling that leads to discovery, rebirths and new beginnings. Often you do not get a second chance, mostly because of your own fears; you are afraid of self-discovery when facade to face with the root of creation. I was born into this state, and had to fight my way back into some sort of relationship with the physical world just in order to survive as a tangible human being. I was born into the ethereal into a state of spirit and soul. I could have taken my escape on many or any of the cosmic winds that have blown through me, but I chose to stay here as human body. Why, I really do not know. I am here for a reason that is yet to become apparent to me. But I have kept close to my roots as a purveyor of the unconscious. I never lost touch with that wonderful state of being. It did not frighten me, although the resultant art works over the years have frightened many viewers. I was ostracized and made outcast in the art world, because I possess and gift that others can only dream about. It took me many years to understand that this is not my problem.

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December 11

Art Extraordinary

Look at the pictures that float across the screen. These are 33 out of thousands-multidimensional art works created over the last 37 years. You think you know how to make images? Take a real good look, don't be frightened, scared, or intimidated. Look at these, only 33 images take about three minutes of your time. These come from the unconscious, they speak, they talk to your soul, your being, your is, was and will be. I create in the moment, but there is moment after moment, and this single moment is all there is. It just compounds itself and builds into a block of time. One work per one block of time. Some take five minutes, some take years, but they are all sudden well springs of basic life-giving unconscious energy that sustains and helps us to go forward in the face of odds that are and were never really very good. There is hope in these works, there is eternal, there is real, there is ethereal, there is the stuff that is, is made of, everlasting, and immediate at the same time. The door swings open and the mail is delivered, the work is done. It becomes itself by itself and of itself on its own, I am just a funnel, a conduit through which these images make themselves appear; I am their door to this that is, now, then and those things that will be. My art tells the future and reveals the past, but it is based in your perception of the now, the today, the being that you are at this very instant and the being that you were and the being that you will become. At first, yeah, it was scary, I painted in the studio form many years, I listened to my soul, saw the reflection of the collective being in the works that I created. Faced myself in the face of everything else. It is sometimes not real easy to look at. It is not easy to face these things, but it is necessary and important in a world where no one takes responsibility for anything anymore. Somebody has to face the music, and quite simply some of the music has just come my way. I listen to it, free it, let it become real. It is a reflection of all us, you cannot help but learn. If you don't care, fine I really don't give a fuck. If you want to take a look and maybe learn something about yourself and about everything else, that is fine too. I have faced nothing but jealousy and hatred and anger my entire life as an artist, other artists are for some reason intimidated, and try there best to get me to stop working. Julien Levy told me to keep working despite the odds, despite all odds, no matter what came my way. Levy told me to keep my work and my gift alive, and to protect it at all costs. That is what I have don the last many years. Julien Levy told me that when there is need, the work will surface and be accepted for what it is. I believe, I hope in all of us.

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December 10

What of the Maya?

If the world didn't burn up and end 25,000 years ago why will it burn up now if this planetary alignment and cosmic wonderment only happens once every 25,000 years? So the Maya calendar ends on December 21, 2012. that is when some cataclysmic world ending event is supposed to happen because their calendar ends then, the long count, I don't feel it, the logic eludes me Who the hell was Nostradamus anyway? If it does happen nobody will know it anyway and we cannot do a fucking thing about it. I don't feel it I don't see it no way something like dat gon happen. Just da way tis'.

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December 09

Who Cares? (It is Christmas Time)

Who cares? I give up! Totally surrender! It is time. I can't go on no further as day say. Hurrah hurrah hurrah ain't no way to decipher this code of non-reason irrationality floods into my soul a current alive with the time of this time, with the current and electric of this time I got nuthin' left or right for that matter just hurts too fuckin' much to tolerate anymore. Today I surrender to all those things that haunt me, all the disillusionments and disappointments and heartaches and anger and pain and suffering that I still carry with me. It is a slow process of unloading but it happens nonetheless. Over time overtime I am wandering lost between this life past lives and the next life. I can see it kind of in little glimpses bits and pieces that float in and out of my consciousness in waking and in sleep and in the special places in between. I will leave and go when I am ready. Then and only then will the next life be revealed to me as I float negligible out there in the cosmos toward the energy I need toward a copulation of universes that let me slide through into the being of again; once free now captured by time once again I am the last dying breeding again, too crowded this world, too dead those that were alive are dying and those that are dead are still dead. Mine is an illusion pasted to a screen of consciousness that presents itself as energy patterned after the very life force that brought me here in the first place . I am free, free or not free it does not matter because words are just words but they can still paint a picture, it is in the way that they go together and intermingle. Fly I will to fly if the air is there and my soul is bare, cleaned slate is what I need, clean to the very substance that holds me together. White room quiet with a couple open doorways don't know which way to go I have to make the bed there is a beautiful pattern in the middle of the bed spread, the room is calm I am comfortable there but there is no place else to go! Sleeping in the old recliner I dreamed this dream, woke up almost paralyzed, relaxed beyond belief, feeling relief, got up got a cup of coffee then threw the old recliner in the dumpster. Now I got it! It is....yesterday that I have to forget!

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Another Time

I put up a Christmas tree, a real Christmas tree in the living room by the spiral staircase, the traditional Christmas tree spot. We haven't had a real tree since 1989 when my brother Mike wanted one before he died. I think he got to see it although I am not sure because of the emotional intensity that went along with the whole situation. I know he died sometime in December before Christmas. It is a nice tree I cut at Ed Gremli's house where we got our trees the past few years. I put a few lights on it and a few ornaments that were hiding in the living room. I took up the old rug too that had been there since about 1976. Over 30 years of cat stains, smells, dirt, and wood stove residue from wood and everything else that accumulates after 33 years. Beneath the old rug is a solid oak hardwood floor that my father Mike and his sister Rita's husband Tony Surace put in over fifty years ago. The air in the house is different now with all the stench of soiled carpet gone. The floor is in great shape. steam cleaned it and everything. The Christmas tree looks nice. Simple. that is all I can do right now. "The real spirit of Christmas lies within your heart."

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December 08

One Plan

Try and try and try again. Forget it there is no point in trying. All is waster effort. Without sharing time passes by no one gives a shit. What is the point: what is the point? Terminal repetition luminescence that is light shining from some source some light emitting source; why the curtain? Why the block the wall is tantamount to transgression pardon me I illiterate my same strength is emotional maturity I try not to make sense but it just happens anyway for I am the foreseeable unforeseen I am nothing and everything else rolled into one take my heart my soul goes with it for what I am is what I am and I am what I know to be. Five lives born and reborn an idea surfaces from he depths of the unconscious my private playground it is where I am where I live where I will continue to be I dream of dreams undreamt who needs sentences when thought emerges as a preamble to some idea that will follow me into some uncharted nowhere business of death something we never want to look at but something that follows us around everyday uncomfortable talk that of death for it is where none of us want to until we are in so much pain that we cannot stand where we are anymore. We call it quits and look for a new skin concurrent with the old one we settle Karma constantly looking at blue skies and chasing dogs around in circles as I throw my heart out there for all to see just to get stomped on again and again. Because I refuse to beg I do what I have to do I do what I know how to do it is what I am. Uncomfortable territory that of dying no one wants to say goodbye but it is inevitable for we live many lifetimes at once all I have to go by is what I no to be true and what I know to be true is certain. That much I know.

11:38 AM | Add a comment | Permalink | Blog it | About Us

All Of Us

Another day and there is no point to any of this. Why even bother; for my own survival? Is my survival worth anything against a backdrop where everything and all of us will someday be erased in the blink of an eye. One day I will die all of us will die and none of what I have done or tried to do will even be a distant memory. All will be gone forever gone forever gone forever. So we keep trying hope against hope, but for what, what will the result be? I really don't know all I know is that I have a great mind and a strong body despite cancer, injury, concussion, past addiction top alcohol and drugs, and I still persist from just one single purpose of mind. Purpose of mind, purpose of mind. My strength lies in my courage in the face of unbeatable odds. My focus and my strength of will I know I can go on, will go on, to another life to another purpose. I still don't know why I am here. I clean my house, my yard, get rid of the old and walk into the new. I have a fire and a purpose for the immediate, the task that is in front of me. I know the big picture that I have explained a million times. It is a process of simplification, of learning, of going back to the beginning then building again. There is no final curtain. All there is now is this second this moment that I am passing through, that is carrying me into the next. What space are we passing through, where are we going and who really cares?

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December 06

Contribute To The Intangible

I'm one of the few people left on earth who realizes that this whole damn thing, this tremendous effort we all put forth as what we call living, is just a waste of time. What is the point to any of it? We are all destined to end up in the same place anyway so we feed our needs and wants and desires just o make ourselves feel better when it will all be erased, one day, with the "blink of an eye." It is just a bunch of nonsense. But we persist in our mundane efforts at perfecting things that are totally meaningless. totally extrinsic pursuits based on a lack of knowledge and misinformation. But what else is there? I really don't know. But to go in the face of this knowledge, to go on an live a responsible life trying to make the correct moral decisions and trying to "do the right thing" most of the time is one guidepost. Instead we labor on in childish egotistical pursuits jut to make ourselves shine in a light that nobody really cares about or will ever see. Real satisfaction and growing comes from within yourself, from a feeling that well maybe I helped the total effort in some little way. It is not about you, it is about all of us and everyone and everything else. True progress comes from getting out of our little shell, and doing things intangible, which are of a lasting nature. Because when you contribute to the intangible, you are contributing to the greater good, and to the eternal, not in a religious sense, but in the sense of things that go on when we are gone.








One Day: The Year 2009


Your soul is my soul. We all come from the same place and eventually, we will all go back to the same place. That is the beauty of this whole thing, it has no beginning and it has no end. It is what it is and we all eventually go to from where we came. Carl Jung once said that the further one gets from one’s center, the greater the distortion of the given reality. As we get further and further away from our starting point, the more a reality distortion sets in.

Consider these facts. The earth spins on its axis at a rate of 1,040 miles an hour at its equator. The earth also travels on its orbital path through space around the sun at 65,000 miles per hour. Next in the progression, the earth and other planets (our solar system) travel through space at the rate of 40,000 miles per hour, on a course in the direction of a blue star called Vega. Finally, our galaxy is moving at a rate of 700,000 miles per hour toward the constellation Cepheus. Finally, there are spiral galaxies found beyond our Milky Way are speeding away from us at the rate of 25 million miles per hour.

Now we know that “dark matter”, a relatively newly discovered component, is accelerating the pace or speed at which the universe (meaning all universe, total universe, everything there is everything that exists, anywhere, whether we know about it or not) and all its contents are moving apart. Think about that. Everything there is, is being pulled apart at an ever increasing speed. Meaning this acceleration will continue to become faster and faster until all matter, all universe, is blown apart into nothingness.

If you consider these facts, we are actually moving, at an astounding rate of speed, 700,000 miles per hour. It is obvious that we are not staying in one place for too long if you consider your age in hours, and multiply it by 700,000, that will tell you how far you have travelled through space since your birth. Imagine the amount of space you have gone through, different space with different textures and different dimensions and different realities. What is even more bizarre, we are distorting on one plane, and experiencing our reality as everyday occurrences on another plane. It is no wonder we sometimes get confused and act bizarre.

Consider the different textures, thicknesses, warps and just plain different things that we experience on a second to second basis, things we cannot understand or even be aware of because they are absorbed by the other 94 percent of our consciousness, the area called the unconscious, the area that we largely ignore because we do not want to deal with any unconscious implications during the course of our everyday reality. It gets too confusing, too much information, too much to deal with. Therein sets up a very real denial at one of the deepest levels of our individual personalities, as well as a collective denial of so many different things that are going on around us. We do not have a clue as to what is going on. We just hope to get through another day.

Your soul is my soul. We are all in this together.

Self Portrait 2010



1/6/2011


I feel dirty inside laden with neglect and well, just unclean. My soul is overloaded with soul matter and the sins of sins of sins seem to have fallen on top of me. I need to unburden myself of all the un-cleanliness. I am heavy my being is heavy with the weight of unnecessary and superfluous energy that is pulling me down. I cannot let this block continue. It is nasty and unhealthy.


Physical exercise helps to lighten the load but then it just comes back again to another level. I have to find a way to let it go.


My body is filled with arthritis, and as the years go by it hurts more and more. I take limited medication via prescription Motrin and Tramadol (generic Ultram). Things hurt too much and I am nervous and uncomfortable. It is becoming harder to get through each day. It would be great to be able to lighten this spirit a little bit, but I seem to have lost the will or method to do it.


Life is all about context. Our reality is real only because our every moment is defined by the particular and narrow context that we happen to be living in. People at a football game on Los Angeles have no connection to people hiding in caves in Afghanistan; except that we are all here on the same planet on the same universe. Other than that our consciousness will never cross paths, except maybe in some strange unconscious way in or on another dimension. I know what is happening to me my unconscious is overloaded. The only problem with that is that my unconscious happens to carry more than its share of the collective unconscious. In this regard, I am heavy with the ethereal matter that has become so familiar to me over the years. It fueled my existence and it fueled my art work for a very, very, very, very long time. It has taken me to places I would wish no human should ever visit. Yes that is the problem: unconscious overload too much of the weight of nothingness has filled my spirit and it has no place to go because I have chosen, at least for a small while, to not let it go.


1/8/2011


Art And Everything Else


My goal as far as art is concerned, even though I did not know it at the time I started making images, is to create timeless images that will still hold meaning to the viewer a hundred or thousand years from now. It was immediately apparent that my art stems from the unconscious, not my unconscious but the collective unconscious. I started creating images in 1970, and here it is 2011 forty-one years later and I am still doing it. This is an image I created by using computer software just last night. The key to properly viewing any work of art is to let down your defenses, to let yourself go, and to become one with the image that you are viewing, that is appearing in front of you. If you can merge on some level with the image, the real image behind the superficial image that is immediately apparent will appear to you. You will in essence learn something, something inside you will change; you will become larger, lighter, and more together. Most images created now are tired repetitions of things past of time gone by. Having access to the collective unconscious gives one access to timeless energy and imagery that results from making this energy tangible in some way, shape, or form. The technique is not important and has never been important. What matters is the feel, the spirit, the energy and resulting imagery that comes from the honest contact and confrontation with this boundless never ending source of power and force, the collective unconscious, the storehouse for all that we are and all the we have been and all that we will become. There is no room for interpretation, there is only the is of what you are.




This is my very first painting, the first time I took brush to paint to canvas.







I began painting at a time in my life that I needed a miracle. I was floundering, dropped out of college, my father was pretty sick, and I was just pretty lost and miserable. I did not know what to do. I quit the University Of Pennsylvania because I was in over my head, and I didn’t really give a shit anymore after getting all D’s even though I studied as hard as I ever did in my life. I could not hack it there. It was my first time away from home, and I was even more lost when I found myself in Philadelphia. So I came home to be near my father, mother, sister Francine and brother Lou, who was a teacher in Auburn Prison, the home of the world’s first electric chair. You see, my family was and is my entire life, that is the reason I live and breath. I didn’t care about football, studies, money, fame or fortune. I just needed to be near the people I love. I guess that is why I have stayed in the family home all these years, even though everyone I cherish or cherished is either gone away or died. The memories and the energy and the vibration, the space and reality is still here even though it is just me and Calpurnia, a cat that I picked up at the golf course and brought to live here. This house is a special place, and only special beings can live here and comprehend what it is that makes this house special, what it is that is here. I never do mind being alone here, because, quite honestly and sincerely, I am never alone when I am here. I never want to leave here, not even to go to work. this house is my haven, my heaven, my safe place from the rest of the world. It is filled with a healing energy, an energy that runs through you and makes you strong and healthy, in many, many ways.

At any rate, after I left Penn. I came home and enrolled at a local college. During that summer, a friend who I went to high school with invited me over to his house and got me interested in painting. I took an immediate liking and kinship to the process, and found that the paint just seemed to form images that related directly to what I was seeing, in an intuitive sort of way. I painted from them on, and took a few art courses at the local college. The art courses were rudimentary and meant nothing to me, so i continued to explore the process of putting paint on canvas on my own terms.

I moved to Washington DC in the spring of 1972, a few months after my father died. I had a job in the ITT Continental Baking bread making factory up on Georgia Avenue. My brother was the personnel manager, and told me he could get me a job on the loading dock making about $240 a week. Needless to say I was directionless after I dropped out of the University of Pennsylvania, and I think everyone here at home was kind of concerned and could smell trouble a brewin’. I got in with a bad crowd at the college, and just needed to get a fresh perspective, after all those years of stardom on a local level, and living up to everyone else’s expectations. I took an old suitcase, and a bag of paints and brushes ,and boarded a buss for DC. I bought some canvases at an art store around the corner from my apartment on 1302 I Street, just down the block from the Greyhound Bus station, and a few blocks from Georgia Avenue, where I boarded a city bus every afternoon for my journey to the bread factory. It was good work, and I did some good paintings.

I was there a few months when my brother told me he met this guy named Harithas who was the director of the Everson Museum in Syracuse. Harithas was a fireball of a guy who loved to stir things up, and had something art-wise going with the inmates in the prison. My brother showed Harithas a few of my paintings, and the guy said he wanted to meet me and talk to me. So I came home, met with him, and right there in the living room couch he told me that he wanted me to do an art show,  one-man show of large figure paintings at the Everson in 1974. So I said yes, I could do that, even though I never did a figure painting in my entire life. So I moved home and went to work in the back porch addition that my father built on to the house so many years before, the back porch that I called and still call my studio.

I took a job at our church and school on the next block where I did my childhood, and where Ma was employed as the secretary. I did odd jobs like painting the school rooms and old sacristy upstairs to pay for paints, brushes, canvas, and to help out a little around the house.

I began painting at a feverish pace, almost night and day for two straight years, I would paint all day, catch a few hours sleep after supper on the couch in front of the television, then go back into the studio and work until four or five in the morning. My family financed the venture whenever I needed any paints of canvas or brushes; we even went on a trip to Spain, where we visited many cultural cathedrals and I came home with a roll of Spanish canvas, which the airlines crushed in the middle, many hand made Spanish brushes, some pure ground paints from the localities that we visited. It was a great time.

Painting was second nature to me, like athletics was when I was a little kid. There was no stopping ground of indecision caused by the lack of commitment of adulthood. My decisions were pure and instantaneous, and came directly from a pure and open heart, and a direct connection to the collective unconscious, the breeding ground for intuition, innovation, and inspiration. Like athletics, I reveled in the experience of making art, loved the exhilaration, the sense of discovery, the newness of being every time I began to work again. It was as if I was filled with a renewed spirit, a river of energy. I was touching something deep and powerful that was touching me back, There were no negativities, only the positive. I was involved at every level, all cylinders were pumping at full acceleration.

What I came to discover after a while was that I was discovering a way to live that was healthy and suited to what I wanted to do. I was stripping away layers and layers of consciousness, and peeling away the many psychic, spiritual, and scars of the soul that one manages to accumulate over the course of a lifetime or many lifetimes. I was given a chance and method to lay waste to the excess baggage that I had accumulated over the years of living, in this live or over many lifetimes. I was making visible that matter that lies beyond our everyday existence and awareness. I was making a visual record of the collective unconscious, a record that would be shown in public. I was doing something worthwhile, something that might help someone else who saw and experienced the work to understand a little about themselves, the way I was learning about myself. I found I did not need alcohol or drugs, even though my experience with both was not very extensive up until that point. I was learning to survive by using the tools that I was given.

I painted over two years without a respite, and hung my show proudly with the help of the curator of the Everson. Harithas had left for Houston, Texas. My show was in August of 1974. There was no reception, although I was rather surprised that the television stations demanded to interview me in the gallery, and take pictures of the work that were later shown on television. It was not until the pictures were hung and the show opened that I realized what an emotional and spiritual toll I had paid by unleashing that much psychic and spiritual energy, and by letting it be replaced by the pure spirit and newness of the unconscious. There was a small gathering at a friend’s house the evening the show opened, and I had a total emotional breakdown and started crying and could not stop. It was like the floodgates had opened and I was powerless to stop the flow. I guess the party broke up early, and the next thing I remember my sister was driving me home. We were going up the hill by Community General Hospital, taking the “back way home” as we used to call it. I finally stopped crying and came to my senses and saw the sun was shining toward sunset.

As always, the experience was spoiled somewhat by other people. Other artists were extremely jealous, and all I heard from the artistic community was negativity and criticism. It really bothered me. I would walk proudly into a room or art opening or party and immediately be targeted by harsh invective, almost to the point of jealous rage, by any other artists who were present in the room. I had in my own mind given this venture all I had and done nothing wrong, yet the only words I heard from “peers” were discouraging. I even heard a couple friends, Bill Roberts and Jack White, talking one time about the negative aspects of what I was doing.

The only thing I was guilty of doing was stripping my self, my soul, naked to the bone, of exposing my most inner being for the world to see. There were so many things I did not understand, such as why this was a bad thing. It bothered me then, and bothers me a little now, so many years later.

I have continued to work at my art. I have long since abandoned the oil paints and acrylic paints (for health reasons) and have adapted my creative process and style to the digital world. The electric is a direct route to the unconscious, without the cumbersome intervention of physicality. My process adapted itself immediately the the digital, electric, abstract world of the computer. The few software programs I have found that are advanced enough to fill me creative needs have yielded some astounding results. I can even work on my art wherever and whenever I want to, without having to worry about carrying around all the cumbersome equipment used in physical mediums. What is better is that digital, computer generated work is so much more adaptable to my process. I can do in ten minutes what used to take me ten weeks or ten months. The electric impulse is a direct route to the unconscious. The human who uses it ( the artist) just has to learn to recognize the signposts along the way, and know where to move the cursor, and begin and end an image.

I even tried to give up making art, because I was bitter about all the negativity that came from other people. I am just a human being and need a little approval and positive feedback, just like everyone else. But quitting proved to be a sort lived experiment. It only took a little while for my body to start to rebel on my, and for that feeling that I had to work again to come back. I could almost feel a foreign entity inside me, churning and struggling to get out. There was this enormous tension, this energy that was building inside me that needed to be set free. So I opened the computer one day, and went back to work, and have been working and building on the process ever since.

I make images, write, and play the guitar (badly), and make anti-music, because I have to make images, write and make sounds. The process is necessary to my survival, to my very existence. The end result, the work, still comes from that very place that fosters very spark and energy that put us all here in the first place, and the spark and energy that will take us back to where we came from. It is nothing special. I was fortunate enough to have been able to experience some things first hand, and fortunate enough to have been given the opportunity to make these things real, tangible, and visible. I was also fortunate enough to have been given the will, spirit, soul, and psyche to handle the experience, to handle and make use of the gift that was bestowed upon me.

Here and now, I give back to all the naysayers and negative beings all their nay saying and negativity. I stretch and reach via the impulse electric into all your beings and minds, and put back into you the weight that I have carried around with me all these years. If you are feeling a little uncomfortable for a while, tough shit! You deserve it! I have survived and will survive, and what is more important, my images, ideas, and sounds will also survive, and the process that makes the real will survive, and be given the opportunity to get out there, to make people understand a little about their real self, and to make life here on earth a little better.

The Unconscious Engine

How do I keep getting into this? The unconscious engine fills me up to the top of my head until it feels like it is about to burst, like my head is going to explode right out the top, like I am going to blow up as the spiritual entity that takes me through the paces of my life, the places I have to go. One of the people whose opinion I value most in this life saw this website and went completely ballistic about the content, like I am some kind of Jack the Ripper or something. So I flipped the switch and cut off my access to my survival mechanism, the place and process that keeps me healthy. As soon as I turned it off, I could feel all the negativity and bad energy that contacts me and is contained in my energy settle into the nooks and crannies of my soul and body. I started to feel pain again, I gravitated toward that pain and began to grasp a vine of negativity in the quicksand of suffering. What a god damned fool, what a god damned fool I am for turning off the mechanism that keeps me alive! This is a damn important process, something that is intensely real and vital to me, a process of spiritual survival that is at once tied in with my total survival a survival of heart, soul, mind, energy and body. I feel sick inside since I stopped writing, and my body is starting to ache and hurt worse than ever. I even thought of starting to drink again but that, while it would be totally abusive to me would not accomplish anything except kill me. I have what you would call a “sensitive personal ecosystem” at play and in place here in my space in my being in whatever the hell it is I am. I have a rage burning inside me and this is the only way to set it free. It is not who I am, more to the point, it is my mechanism for survival without this outlet I would not be able to function. Between reality and dreams this ecosystem lives, grows and propagates, it leads me into a new energy into a new place into a new reality where I function maybe in a direct way with the basis of reality, the reality where we all survive. This is the basis for my existence. I cannot help the fact that I have to question things, it is a process that set itself upon me many years ago and a process that keeps me in tune with the things that are important the things that allow me to function on a day to day basis. I can see now that is not a choice anymore but a necessity this process that takes me through and into a unique energy that is virtually untapped and filled to the brim just waiting for us to us it. That is one way to explain it. We are so intent on focusing ourselves on a small circle of reality, history, experience and circumstances that we miss this opportunity to fly off into a new sense of space and being. I have used all the old stuff to the limit probably a long time ago and now venture into a new space and time that we are passing through, we as a unit as a cohesive bunch of humanoids. I have seen too many people I have loved vanish into death by becoming trapped in their personal history which then backs up into their bodies and seeks an outlet as disease. This is a plain and simple fact. As soon as I shut the door on this new and positive energy I have encountered, because on and intense argument a couple weeks ago, I began to feel sick and too much pain for me to handle. Last night while standing outside looking at the sky and the stars the before I went to sleep the thought crossed my mind that if I continue in this direction without feeing the thoughts, impulses and energies that get in my way as a functioning being, that without my outlet I would not last very long and die a horrible death. This thought contrasted with the beauty of the night sky stars and cool breeze of a mid-March evening at 9 p.m. I cannot shut it off anymore because it will lead to my demise. There are just plain and simple too many things that I have to do and say and too many places that I have to go; and this release or “opening of the door” gets the unconscious engine up and running, it is my core, a reason and being and new energy that carries me along its flow toward wherever it is I am going. Without this purpose of process, I am doomed. When I tried to close the door I found myself entering a new an old place at a new time, a place that is not healthy in any way a place that would pull me into oblivion. I need to experience the unconscious collective, to bring it into existence as a part of our functioning consciousness. I will not close the door again because at least as far as I am concerned it can only lead to tragedy and oblivion. I have survived for 40 years by entering the this energy flow, by basking in and bathing in the light and power and purpose of its essence. I will not close the door again!

1/16/11

I’ll be sixty years old in two weeks. I have made an important discovery: I am still filled with anger, resentment, hatred, pain, madness, and furor. It is a recurring theme in my life. Things are changing sure, for the better I hope and at times I feel as though I am a different person, someone totally different from the being I have come to know for the last ten decades. The feeling of impending doom has passed at least for the time being, and the sun is shining right now, with patches of blue sky I can see out the window. Maybe I have died and been reborn, God I hate that word reborn, it is so yucky. The reality is that we live three different live: one life as me, another life as someone else and another life as a golf professional. Somehow the three lives of Lrod seem to mold into one. It is all a sham an illusion as we stand on our little stages and pretend to be what we think we are. I just felt a door open. I have been trying to let the energy, the pressure, release up and through my spinal cord and out through the top of my head. It happens best at times of extreme exertion when my heart is really pumping and my muscles are strong and functioning, like when I am cross country skiing. Whatever else happens I know at least that I am trying, just the fact that I can write this stuff tells me at least I fell some need to deal with it instead of acting it out in some stupid way that is commonplace in our society. We reward stupidity, sickness, violence and perversion. All you need is a little repentance. Say you are sorry and you have found God and all is forgiven and you may become a super-hero. I prefer to deal with my inadequacies on a saner level instead of acting them out childishly and stupidly. That should be the label for this time, the second decade of the 2000’s: Stupidity. The dumber you are the farther you go. Once again it is al in the context that holds your existence. Wherever you are you are and you act out in the context of that situation which on our little level in the grand frame of universal existence means nothing. In universal terms we are here then we are gone, that is all there is to it. It is how we relate to our nature relevant to all nature that matters. We need honest assessment of our part in the whole, the big picture. Maybe then we can go forward, as a unit, to something better, instead of living these pitiful little sheltered (by the shell of our own egos) lives filled with fear, anger and stupidity, which is meaningless. The only true measure of how you performed as a human being is how you related to and did in your search for your true nature, the nature that is in tune with the universe and free of all of the mundane qualities that make us all such intelligent, caring, honest, and sensitive human beings.

2/1/11

Mad at me anger seems repetitive, redundant even to the point that I am tired and don’t know who I am. Brain works in mysterious ways for there is too yes unfiltered no gates of heavens crossing I am that returned commodity blessing all blessing church encountered fisticuffs I am uncertain that I am certain of fear is of the asking I am so tired I could at least die again and come back for another round this time with reality without fantasy.

2/27/11

This is a sunset at Dutch Hollow CC in Owasco NY. I took the picture using my iPhone in January 2011 while cross country skiing. Yesterday, February 25, 2011, it dawned on me that I have created a pretty complete record of my psyche, mind, spirit, soul, consciousness and unconscious at least up until the age of 60. I also had a dream the other day where I was standing somewhere and all of a sudden had the realization that “I am not finished yet!” I punched the air with excitement then went out throwing blocks on would-be tacklers and running over other would-be tacklers. No pain just fluid motion. 

I worked hard at creating this record via paintings, drawing, writing, sculpting and digital art creation. It sits pretty much complete in the house I live in on Perrine St. in Auburn NY. It is an honest record of what I was. am and will be. It took hard work, spiritual assessment, and focus and most of all the opportunity to make the record happen. I did what I had to do for many years. I have been creating art and images and novels and poems for over 40 years and continue to do this today. This is my legacy. When I die it is all I will have left on this earth. Some people have children, build empires, I left a record of my humanity and human-ness, my feelings, intellect, and emotions all made visible; everything I felt, saw, experienced, and was made tangible in one form or another. Think about it. Sure I wanted to make money, but there came a time when I just said fuck it because I didn’t want to deal with the cesspool of the art world. I kept creating and keep creating because I have to do it, it is part of being, like breathing, eating and sleeping. It is part or my instinct. I am through apologizing for everything. I did what was necessary and I am tired of negative people who do not understand what I do. 

It is time for me it is time to keep going to keep doing what I do. Another golf season is in the offing and I am looking forward to it. I have access to my creative instincts all year long and I will continue to move along my chosen path. C’est la vie!

Another day older more time wasted too much of nothing and not enough of everything. I am lonely within the framework of my singular existence surrounded by limited intelligence closed circuit humanity gone somewhere else I really don’t know where. Lonliness is the only word I have ever know I have spend a lifetime trying to figure ouw why maybe it is just what it is or maybe I look in al the wrong places but I cannot see in any of them anyway. My curtain lasts forever maybe, find out in the next life climbing mountains unscaled on some other plane where humans just make up their own realitites and fly unencumbered by the weight of this pane of existence. Move on into another sphere another dimension where God is on par with everyone else just a part of us all and everything around us. I am dream gone illogical frying softly around a heated reality drifiting without pain or suffering in the time I have left to exercise my senses. It is horrific this plane this dimension this gravity filled illusion that we have created as our resting place. Let me tempt fate and confront the things I cannot handle let me in to the framework of another existence where things are just not so difficult, numbing and useless. I have the dream no a dream like the black guy said I am the curtain of all that falls before blocking vision a huge hole in consciousness I am the filter of what is left after all is over the cinder burnt of our illusion gone forever in the blink of an eye. I will go on because that is what I am supposed to do. I will keep pushing forward into a new dimension filled with the things I am supposed to know.

3/8/2011

I keep seeing myself as a little kid. This image of me as a kid just keeps popping up into my head. I don’t know when I will ever grow up. In some ways I am evolved way past the current human curve, in other ways I am still retarded stuck in some time warped worm hole that it seems I can never escape. It is all tied to instinct, nature, things that go so deep that they may never be consciousized or brought to the surface.

3/10/11

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away I took a leave of absence from reality, a current clicked inside me you never quite know when universal flow will hit yu between the eyes as tired as you are the circumcision of a spatial glacier filled with white soft galactic junk curls up beside you and lets your life go like a profound cliché I am hurting you are hurting so what say the sayers. I can never have what I want because it is just to hard to get it, or maybe it does not even exist except as a part of my mind that has yet to be uncovered. I remember those nights and through the nights painting my paintings inside the old back-porch grieving for grief itself because it had to be done those moments of pure joy and elation yet so quiet when an image took a life of its own reflected in the windows of the sun porch my mirror against the darkness of night . Music cured me of my ills so many now so few compounded in an instant when all things will end and new things will begin. You just hang in there and just keep pitching-currents may drag you for a while but eventually you will come out on top of the heap. It is better o have loved I guess or maybe it isn’t who the hell knows anything anymore better yet who the hell even gives a shit. I drive my mind against the energy so profound it takes ma painless at my final begging I laugh at the crowds and junp from flow to flow as if these are rocks in a shallow creek or hard spots in the softness of space itself. Yes space is a soft textured being that surrounds us and holds us all for as long as it chooses to keep us then we have our time to go away.

I shiver and hold my ground last stance last ditch effort as realit swallows me for the last time. I have to be afraid for unknown forces dance inside my head as perceptual reality slows as movement external gets faster and faster things seem to move really fast as perception of what is going on continues to slow making an interesting puzzle in what is real and what is not. I become heavy loaded with lightness and give in to the nebulous filter that takes me naked into a new horizon.


I sit here naked in the heat of my particular disease and ask just for a few more chances not to give in I can do what I can do and the rest is just well the rest.

3/12/2011

Never felt anything need an outlet curled in a ball my feelings get thrown away into the outlet drifted gone forever buried and rotted at the sight of some personal religion tragedy lifted beside myself I am lonely gone terminal crash my face between some redhead’s legs heaven  on earth this cannot last too much longer my dreams end where more begin there is where the reality lies in the softness and texture of space and consciousness. Time to turn off the electric current of old business and get on to new beginnings the rest of this life is ahead what is gone is gone beyond anything I could ever imagine.

Genius lies in finding solutions my spirit soars amidst the cloudless skies of wherever whatever reality is will take it: a fool I am I am a fool distant and alone spending so much time correcting mistakes I refuse to beg or apologize again. That is just the way it has to be.

3/23/2011

Too much of too little not enough what is left to talk about? Too much talk little of never never land, places I have to go yet to see where is the next plane the circus of nothingness where illusion cuts itself with a dull blade never bleeding only we bleed naked I need to strip to find myself another mission... gone beyond my comprehension which is quite substantial my synapse is increasing as reality is too slow for my perception things seem to be slowing down as I need to see them happening faster. I see fast but reality is slow my vision is ahead of the sequence that reality presents as something that is current to me yet foreign to the rest of illusion the great pussy envelopes me I need to shudder to wrench an orgasm from the nothingness that is all around us. I need to shake and shimmy and be what this current of energy electric or otherwise needs me to be...when I can do it I fly suffering like the rest of mankind here without knowing, there without knowing greatness eludes the fission that finds its release all around me my servitude is my savior bound by elasticity bare covered by the cold, the cold of darkness and reality, the harsh illusion, the current stream of energetic laughter begging me to let it in. I remove my clothes and find myself a heart beat away from nothing the nothing that is all there is. Heart pounding faster I live for this instant I live in this instant and give myself back to all that has been taken from me. Knotted terminal I catch the next train to nowhere flowing in and out of madness I carry the dreams that I no longer recognize bouncing off clouds that have nothing to do with anything that are not even there as a matter of fact I give myself away to the wind that blows through me I am not that I am this I never was part of any of it...for in the end we are all alone and know not what we speak feel or dream...it is all for what it is and what is is is something we do not know.

4/05/2011

I gather my space holding it all in the palm of my hand ethereal place of lightened existence cradled in softness carried from around the next corner cold in madness I cannot find a way out there is too much light








 

Pure Spirit My Soul

Unburdened